11.

"Want to go out?" Anwar's invitation came unexpectedly one Thursday night in the
second-floor kitchen. It was a spot where we often bumped into each other, spending some time chatting or ordering food before I headed to bed.

No one ever formally arranged to meet, or asked if the other would be there the next day. But if Anwar was home, we'd always end up seeing each other. I enjoyed being near him, the way I imagine others enjoy being near someone they like. Anwar had a calming presence that made those around him feel at ease, allowing me to temporarily forget about P'Phim. But that was enough for me.

He described it as a small bar and restaurant not far away. Actually, I'd walked past it the day we went clothes shopping. Anwar knew the owner, but it was fine if I just went for food, and maybe sneak in some alcohol if I wanted.

We decided on Saturday night—tonight. I quickly showered and got dressed, putting on the clothes we'd bought together. I was starting to feel comfortable in them. Tonight, it was a cream-colored long-sleeved shirt, dark-striped trousers, and white canvas shoes.

As I walked along, rounding a corner, my eyes met his. He stood leaning against a wall, engrossed in his phone, his expression impassive.

He looked incredibly handsome.

I silently observed him as I approached. Anwar wore a black short-sleeved shirt over black slacks and black ankle-revealing shoes. In that outfit, he looked like a rich kid, a bit of a playboy.

Now I understand why he's a successful model. He looks good in absolutely anything.

"Did you wait long?"

"Not long. I just left college a minute ago. Let’s go inside; it’s getting crowded." He nodded towards the bar before leading the way.

"I’m not a big drinker," I said, scratching my cheek. Although I’d intended to drink alcohol tonight, I knew I couldn’t hold my liquor as well as Anwar.

"What do you usually drink?" he asked, settling into a warm, blue chair. The bar was dimly lit, but the orange glow from the glass pendant lamps made everything clearly visible.

"I don’t know… if it were Thailand, probably beer." It’s the easiest to drink compared to spirits. At first, I found the taste awful, almost making me want to spit it out, but my close friend Gus kept saying, 'Just keep drinking it; it’ll get sweet.' I never thought that would be true, but now I’m more used to the taste of beer and it doesn’t make my tongue feel as bad as it used to.

"What about the others?" I thought about Jasper, holed up in his room, and Hazel and Audrey, who’d gone shopping since the afternoon. "Are they coming?"

"Who do you mean?" Anwar sat, propping his chin on his hand, his eyes glancing down at the menu.

"Audrey, Jasper, Hazel." They seemed like the type who enjoyed socializing, drinking, and going out in groups. I wondered if they’d join us here.

Anwar seemed to know what I was thinking. He smiled slightly, his beautiful eyes glancing up at me.

"I didn’t invite them."

His short, simple answer made my heart beat faster before I calmed down. Two
housemates having a drink together seemed perfectly normal.

"Do you want beer or a cocktail?"

"Beer first," I said. At least I was more familiar with it. I’d ordered cocktails in Bangkok before, but they hadn’t been very good. I’d never learned much about them; I didn’t know what was considered good or bad, and the many menu options were overwhelming. I didn’t know where to start.

Anwar nodded. He excused himself and went to the bar, chatting with the bartender, who seemed to be a friend. After a while, he returned to our table. The bar was almost full, as were the limited tables in the small venue. Relaxing music played softly, enhancing the already pleasant atmosphere.

The beer arrived with some snacks: round biscuits arranged on a rectangular wooden board, small clear glasses containing what looked like some kind of meat pâté, and tiny glasses with tea lights beside them.

"Pork rillettes," Anwar said, nodding for me to try them while he raised his own drink.
"You’re drinking liquor?" I asked, noticing his drink wasn’t beer like mine. It was a pale amber liquid with soda bubbles.

"Want to try some?" I shook my head.

"I saw a bar on the third floor of your house. I saw you standing there mixing something once." I recalled a time I’d seen him. Usually, when I saw Anwar drink, it was straight spirits.

"Yes, it was… a hobby I was interested in. I helped a friend for a while," he mused. "You could call it that."

"What kind of help? Like being a bartender? You must make cocktails, then."

"Something like that. A friend from college took over his family’s bar," he nodded. "Want to try?"

"I can try, but I don’t really understand cocktails. I ordered one once, and it wasn’t great," I said slowly.

"That’s okay. If you want to try, I’ll get you to sample several different ones.

I don’t know why, but those words made me feel so good I almost grinned. I quickly raised my beer glass to my lips.

Time flew by. I felt us becoming closer and closer. Anwar started ordering cocktails for me to try—drinks I’d never heard of. He said they were the bar’s own creations. We talked about various things: design work, fashion. I listened as Anwar explained things before he turned the conversation around, letting me do the talking.

Two glasses… three glasses… four glasses…
I kept drinking the cocktails because they tasted good and had almost no alcohol taste.

"Careful. Those sweet ones can sneak up on you," he warned.

"I don’t feel drunk at all," I replied confidently after my third glass.

Anwar smiled, his eyes sparkling. He didn’t say anything more, just sipped his drink. When he finished, he ordered another, watching me sample the different cocktails like a child with new toys.

I started feeling strange as a wave of warmth spread through my body. I glanced towards the bar; the crowd was thinning. Anwar said people often went on to other places; this bar was usually just for a relaxed dinner and drinks before the real nightlife began.

"Should we go?" he asked.

"Okay."

Anwar got up and went to the bartender again. I caught a glimpse of his handsome face, a small smile playing on his lips as he chatted with him.

I didn’t realize how long I’d been staring at him.

All I knew was that I was crazy about that smile.

As we stepped out of the bar, a cool breeze brushed against my cheeks. Anwar told me
stories. Maybe it was his great sense of humor, maybe it was the drinks, but everything felt wonderfully pleasant.

I laughed loudly, even at silly, nonsensical things.

"Jordan and Jasper, they once got incredibly drunk and reenacted Jack and Rose in that
park across the street," Anwar pointed ahead. At the end of the alley was a small park. It was where I’d once asked Gia to take my picture.

"Titanic?" I laughed, picturing Jasper doing something like that.

Even though I’d never met Jordan before, after hearing several stories about him, he
sounded like a really fun guy.

"Are you drunk?" I asked. Our shoulders kept brushing against each other. Neither of us would consistently move away, but they’d bump again and again.

"A little," Anwar wrinkled his nose, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
It was good to know he was at least a little tipsy. I'd seen him drink several glasses. I didn’t know how strong his drink was, but that many glasses probably had some effect.

"One second," Anwar took a deep breath. He stepped aside to lean against a building,
pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "Wait here."

I didn’t mind cigarettes; I never smoked, but plenty of my university friends did.

Anwar lit a cigarette. His brown eyes briefly glanced at me as I approached. A faint plume of smoke rose into the air, as did another puff from his slightly full lips.

"It doesn’t smell as bad as you’ve smelled before," Anwar commented on my statement. He automatically flipped his cigarette pack over. It was black with a hint of green.

Marlboro… I recognized the brand.

Anwar didn’t say anything. He continued smoking, letting the smoke pass through his lips, sometimes through his nose, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on me. I wondered what he found so interesting about me.

Maybe he just didn’t know where else to look. Maybe that was more likely.

"What does it taste like?"

Anwar frowned. This time he took a deep drag, his face seeming to search for the answer.

"Cool."

Cool?

"Menthol mint," he elaborated.

Even though I’d seen people smoke many times, sat beside them in bars countless times, I’d never wanted to try it.

Not like now. The image of Anwar smoking right in front of me made me want to try it.

"Can I try?"

Anwar’s face showed a flicker of surprise, but he readily handed me the pack.

Click!

Anwar held up a silver Zippo to light it. As soon as I put it in my mouth, the red flame lit the tip before Anwar quickly apologized and used his middle finger and index finger to gently remove the cigarette from my mouth.

He quickly pressed his thumb on a small round button. Seeing my confused expression, he finally explained.

"It makes it light," Anwar said, handing me back the cigarette. "Have you ever smoked
before?"

"Never…"

"First time?" When I nodded, he continued, "Just try it." A little anxiety welled up inside me. I didn’t know how to smoke, so I sucked on it like I was drinking through a straw. I felt the cool smoke entering my mouth.

I didn’t know what to do with it.

"Cough!" While I was hesitating between letting it out and inhaling again, the cigarette burned my throat, mixing with the air I was breathing until I coughed violently. My face flushed, and tears welled up in my eyes.

"Cough! Cough!"

Anwar looked at me with amusement. He didn’t even try to hide the small smile playing on his lips.

"Are you okay?"

"No…" I shook my head, bowing my head and trying to cough out the burning sensation.

"It’s…burning."

"That’s not even strong," he smiled. "Want to try again?"

"How do you smoke it?" I wiped my eyes hastily.

Anwar had finished his cigarette but picked up a new one, holding it poised and lighting it again.

"Relax… you draw it in, then keep it here, and then let it out," he demonstrated, gesturing to his throat and then down to his chest. "Like this."

I didn't understand at all.

I frowned, but tried to follow his instructions. Anwar seemed to know my every move. When I started drawing on the cigarette, he murmured for me to stop. When I held the smoke in my mouth, he pointed to his throat and chest, indicating what to do next.

I didn't know what I was doing...

But when I haphazardly followed his instructions, the cool taste and menthol scent he’d mentioned spread throughout my mouth. It didn’t burn my throat like it did when I inhaled incorrectly the first time.

I stared at him. Seeing him exhale a faint plume of smoke, I started to copy him.

Anwar knew I was mimicking him. Without saying anything, he suddenly chuckled softly.

That smile I thought I liked appeared again.

"What are you laughing at?"

Anwar raised an eyebrow. He looked at me but didn’t answer, letting the sounds of traffic and passersby fill the silence.

I ignored him and continued smoking my first cigarette. It was a strange feeling; I couldn’t say whether I liked it or not, but I was beginning to understand why so many people chose to smoke.

"We’ve only been here a short time, but I’ve already learned and tried so many things I never thought I would."

"Like cigarettes, huh?" Anwar shook his head, smiling.

"Smiling," I murmured, turning the cigarette to examine the red glow and the ash that was accumulating at the tip. Seeing this, Anwar gently tapped his cigarette, letting the ash fall to demonstrate.

And I did it again.

I crouched down, placed both arms on my thighs, and pressed my cheek against them
again, seeing Anwar's ankles peeking out from his rolled-up pants and shiny black leather shoes.

"The cigarettes, the cocktails, the casual parties… it all refers to the casual relationship."

I didn’t look up, so I didn’t know what expression Anwar was wearing. I only heard his low voice asking,

"You know about that, huh?"

I was so drunk that my face and cheeks were numb, my lips dry, so I licked them lightly.

"Uh-huh, but I don’t know how much I understand."

"So, what do you understand?"

I blew out a strong breath through my nose. "It’s just casual sex. Nothing more than that. No jealousy, no possessiveness, no rights like a boyfriend or girlfriend. It's strange, though.

What if one person develops feelings?"

This time I looked up, waiting for his answer.

Anwar blinked, then blinked again. An unreadable expression masked his face.
"That depends on the individuals involved," he answered uncertainly. "Where did you learn about this? Google?"

"From Hazel."

"Oh," Anwar didn’t seem surprised. "You’re quite interested in this, aren’t you?"

"It’s new to me, I guess. I never thought about it before," I answered honestly, flicking away the ash and resuming my smoking. The long cigarette was getting shorter, almost finished.

But I still craved that cool, menthol mint taste.

"What do you think?"

"It’s not wrong," I thought back to my conversations with Hazel. It wasn’t about deceiving anyone; it was quite honest. "If both parties are okay with it, that is."

"And what about you? Would you be okay with it?" The question made me pause for a moment.

Okay with it? I didn’t know. But if we agreed on the terms from the start, I wouldn’t have to invest my emotions, wouldn’t have to worry about being deceived, about being foolish, or
about whether it would fall apart, when it would fall apart, or if it was my fault.

If it were like that, it wouldn’t be so bad.

"If we talked about it beforehand… I could probably accept it," I answered softly, unsure of my own reply.

Anwar fell silent. He didn’t ask me anything more about it until the cigarette in my hand was finished. Anwar started to move, and I jumped up to follow.

I should have better control of myself.

That dizzy feeling, that blurred vision… I felt like I was about to lose my balance. It’s
something that always happens when I sit for a long time and then suddenly move,
especially after I’ve had a lot of alcohol.

"That’s a few times already," Anwar caught my arm just in time because we weren’t that far apart.

"Ah, thanks," I steadied myself, dropping the cigarette on the ground with a sheepish smile.

"For the cigarette, too."

"How does it taste?" Anwar muttered, seeming a bit out of it. He looked down at me. His hand, loosely gripping my upper arm, still didn’t let go.

"It’s nicely cool. What do you think?" I turned to wipe a smudge of brown – why was he asking about the taste when it was his cigarette?

He blinked faintly.

"I'm curious too."

"What? You just smoked it," I protested, but Anwar shook his head and moved closer.

Anwar didn't meet my gaze like he usually did. His beautiful eyes were cast down. My heart began to race wildly, like time stopped when his body pressed my back against the white wall.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful smile?" (nah bro being way too obvious)

I began to understand what he meant.

Although I haven't experienced this kind of thing much, I'm not naive enough to miss the situation.

Excitement surged through my body, unlike the calm person in front of me. He wasn't
assaulting me, but he didn't seem to be backing down easily either.

"Anwar."

When I called his name, his captivating eyes lifted to meet mine, accompanied by a direct question that left me weak.

"If I say I want to kiss you, can I?" (wHAT)

I'd never been asked such a question before. When faced with it, my head spun. I didn't even know what to say in response, or even if I should respond.

The embarrassment mixed with the lingering intoxication became increasingly
overwhelming.

Anwar stepped closer when I didn't refuse.
The faint scent of cigarettes from him was the same as the one I'd just tried a moment ago.

His gaze, captivating and making me unable to think of anything else, focused solely on his increasingly close approach.

I already knew what kind of cigarettes he smoked.

And would the taste of those cigarettes on his lips be the same?

"Can I?"

Anwar had some kind of power that made it impossible for people to refuse him. It was the same now.

Excitement and curiosity mixed together, so strong they overwhelmed the warnings my brain was sending.

Dangerous...

Instead of answering the question I couldn't formulate, my eyes fluttered closed until my vision went completely black. Warm breath brushed my lips.

"Say yes."

"Yes," I mumbled, following the whisper so close it was like a spell. My heart pounded
incessantly. I heard a soft chuckle in the silence.

Before warm lips pressed down, stealing all my thoughts.

I opened my lips involuntarily, letting a warm tongue in, intertwining. The sound of the kiss punctuated the moment. I instinctively reached up and grasped his shirt.

My mind went completely blank.

The only thought was understanding...what a kiss from someone skilled felt like.

I was surprised by the intensity. Anwar tilted his head slightly before gently cupping my face with both hands. The touch was soft, gentle, like the caress he was offering.

This wasn't my first kiss, but I was clumsy and awkward, inexperienced compared to him – my hands, my breathing, and my tightly closed eyes.

Anwar pulled away, but his hands still cradled my face, preventing me from opening my eyes.

"Open your eyes."

I took a deep breath and slowly obeyed.

Anwar's face was so close, it was breathtaking. He offered a small, charming smile, a captivating curve of his lips. His gaze was steady, intensely focused on my eyes before he softly blinked, a gesture as delicate as a butterfly's wings.

I felt… like I was falling under a spell, whatever it was.

"Remember what I said?"

He whispered hoarsely, placing one hand against the wall behind me. His serious expression made me purse my lips, wanting to escape the overwhelming embarrassment.

But I could only turn my face away.

"If you ask about casual again, what would I think? Remember?" The fading memory
resurfaced in my mind.

I froze, staring at him as his smile widened, a look of amusement spreading across his face.

"And when you said you were okay with it… did you really think it through?"

I almost bit my tongue. Everything connected, all of a sudden. And I hadn’t even realized it before.

That everything he’d said and asked, would come back to bind me like this.

"No…"

"Don’t want to try it anymore?"

"You said to forget it." I argued, trying to focus my eyes on the cars parked across the street.

Several scenarios replayed in my mind.

"I don't want you to forget," he replied simply. The answer pulled my gaze back to him before I could react.

Anwar smiled charmingly, his eyes fixated on my lips.

"I’d rather you say yes again."

"No… no, I don’t want to," I gently pushed him away, blushing so intensely I felt like
exploding and escaping the situation. Once free from his embrace, my head spun. My feet moved quickly, carrying me back to my accommodation.

Anwar followed at a leisurely pace. We didn't speak for several minutes.

But just catching a glimpse of his shadow overlapping mine on the pavement sent a flurry of strange thoughts through my mind. My ears burned, and I instinctively reached up to touch them.

Stop thinking! Stop thinking right now!

I told myself this repeatedly on the way back, even after collapsing onto the soft bed in my room.

Even repeating it hundreds of times, my mind raced. The atmosphere, our entire
conversation from the bar, his warm hand supporting my neck, my cheeks, his beautiful eyes… his smile…

I still couldn't stop thinking about the taste of the cigarette lingering on his lips.